Jade put her arms around him and stood on tiptoe for his kiss. From her heart, she fervently proclaimed, “I couldn’t love you more if you were my real father, Monsieur—”
“Then stop calling me Monsieur, for God’s sake,” he cried with pretended affront, tucking her hand in the crook of his arm to end the emotion of the moment. He commanded with a grin, “Call me Travis, or Poppa, or anything you please, but never Monsieur. Now let’s go find some champagne. I always found the bubbly stuff made these soirees more tolerable.”
Laughing together, they returned to the party. Everyone was enjoying himself immensely, and the sounds of music and joy filled the air. Servants kept the food and champagne available in abundance, and there were no signs that the celebration would end any time soon.
Finally, Colt grew tired of the revelry and said as much while dancing with one of Jade’s royal cousins. The young lady, Tamara, sniffed with disapproval, coldly reminding him that the guests of honor were expected to stay until the guests began to leave, and that would be close to dawn. Hearing that, as soon as the dance ended, he took her back to her bored-looking escort and promptly rescued Jade from the arms of a huffing dignitary with a bright red satin sash across his pot belly. He then proceeded to waltz her right out a terrace door and into the milk-and-pearl glow of night.
Alone, away from the dazzle and lights, he wrapped her in his arms and kissed her warm, sweet lips. “You’re beautiful,” he said in awe. “Here, in this strange night that really isn’t a night, you’re like a fairy princess. I expect to see elves dancing on the lawn any second now.”
Jade laughed, her heart warm to bursting with the love she felt. “Sorry, but there are no toadstools for my elves to hide beneath, and they’re very shy.”
“Jade, let’s get out of here,” he suddenly urged. “Let’s just quietly sneak away and go to the yacht. These people will be here all night, and that dragon-faced cousin of yours, Tamara, just informed me we’re expected to stay till things start breaking up, and I’ve got another party in mind…an intimate little party just for two.” He gave her a conspiratorial wink.
Jade pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Well, it’d be terribly rude of us, I’m afraid.” Actually, the idea of slipping away was delicious, because she was also anxious for them to be alone but, in her usually playful manner, pretended reluctance. “We don’t sail till dawn, and there’s to be a champagne-and-caviar breakfast for the families on board so they can say farewell.”
Colt was used to her pixie ways and knew how to get around them. He gave a heavy sigh, slumped his shoulders, presented an expression of sad resignation. “You’re right. It would be rude. Let’s go back in and get something to eat. Looks like a long night, and I’m hungry.”
He turned to go, but Jade reached out and caught his arm, well aware he was paying her back for her pretended reluctance. “If you really want to leave now, Colt, we will.”
He kept his face turned, lest she see his amusement. “No, you’re right. We’d best stay.”
“Colt, if we don’t leave now, I won’t leave, at all. I’ll stay here,” she threatened.
Colt raised an eyebrow, but only slightly. He’d learned during their courtship not to ever be surprised at Jade’s sudden, whimsical behavior, or he’d walk around with eternally raised eyebrows and wide eyes and no doubt look like an imbecile.
“Are you serious?” He was not asking about her empty threat, and they both knew it.
She nodded, excited and trembling from head to toe with the thought of such an unorthodox exit from their own party. If anyone was offended, then he or she was just an old prune and didn’t matter.
She stamped her white satin-slippered foot and pretended agitation. “Well? Are you afraid to do something so daring?”
Colt sneered, knew she was deliberately goading him, just as she knew that he, like his father, never yielded to decorum unless he felt like it. So, welcoming her challenge, he lifted her off her feet in one swoop and into his arms. With the yards and yards of satin, chiffon, and lace of her wedding gown bunching up, he looked as though he were carrying a load of expensive laundry rather than abducting a bride.
Stepping from the terrace, Colt hurried across the wide lawn of the palace and into the eerie white night. Peasants lurking about outside in hopes of a glimpse of royalty were treated to a sight they would talk about for a long time to come—the handsome man dressed in white carrying a frothy bundle of satin and lace. They would later learn, to their astonishment, that this was actually the bride, Her Majesty the Princess Jade, and her husband, Colt Coltrane.
Suddenly Jade said, “This is crazy. You can’t carry me all the way to the Admiralty. It’s too far, and—”
“You’re right,” he acknowledged, shifting her about so he could raise an arm to flag a passing carriage. The elderly couple inside were on their way to a party of their own but could not resist the curious sight. All Colt had to do was explain where he was going and, with giggles of delight, they made room for him and instructed their driver to take them straight to the shipyard.
The royal yacht was quite visible, and when the carriage came to a stop at the waterfront, Colt thanked his comrades for their kindness. Then he took Jade in his arms once more and carried her aboard the magnificent ship. Sailors milling about on the decks, as well as on the walkway, stared curiously.
An officer, splendidly dressed in a white uniform with gold and black braids and cording, appeared from somewhere inside. At once he realized the newlyweds had arrived—and this was not the way they’d been expected. “Uh—uh, you’re early,” he stammered in greeting, then quickly regained the composure of his position. Heels clicking together, he gave a polite bow, then saluted. He addressed himself to Jade, for he knew her from previous cruises with the family. “Your Highness, we weren’t expecting you till much later, and we’d been told there’d be a farewell party at dawn, and—”
“We’ve changed the schedule,” Colt said brusquely.
Jade turned her face to his chest because she did not want the lemon-faced officer to see her laughing.
“No party.” Colt brushed by him. “No guests on board. We sail as soon as you can pull anchor.”
The officer’s look of surprise was fading to one of pleased amusement as he realized the couple had sneaked away from their own party. “This way,” he said with a smile, gesturing them to follow, “to the Imperial suite.”
Jade was familiar with the layout of the 4,500-ton, black-hulled yacht and murmured to Colt that she knew the way.
“Good,” he told her, then instructed the officer that they didn’t need a guide. “Just have two bottles of the best champagne delivered right away.”
The officer stepped back obediently. “As you wish, sir.”
Jade explained as they went how the yacht had been built especially for the Czar in a Danish shipyard and was considered nautical elegance at its most supreme. “I’ve loved the summers sailing with the family.”
The craft was propelled by steam and fueled by coal. The immense bowsprit was encrusted with a thick gold leaf and jutted outward from the forward clipper bow. There were three tall masts, varnished and shining, high above twin white funnels. In the pale pink light of the night, the decks gleamed beneath white canvas awnings and were lined with tables and chairs of wicker. The drawing rooms and dining rooms and lounges below were paneled in mahogany. There were crystal chandeliers and velvet draperies and polished floors. There were spacious staterooms for the royal family’s guests and even a chapel. There were quarters for the ship’s officers and engineers, stokers, deckhands, stewards, valets, maids, cooks, and the Marine Guards. Then, farther below, rooms were provided for members of the yacht’s brass band and balalaika orchestra.
“It’s like a floating palace,” she exulted. “I couldn’t believe when Nicholas arranged for us to use it for our honeymoon.”
They reached the Imperial suite, and although it was lavishly furnished with everything great and marvel
ous and dazzling that one would expect to find in the quarters of a Czar and Czarina, Jade and Colt could have been in a dark and dingy cellar for all the attention they paid. This was their night, their moment, their time, when, at last, they were united not just as lovers but as husband and wife. No matter that they’d succumbed to passion in the past. That was then. This was now. This was different. This was the ritual and symbolic coupling of flesh and heart so significant and meaningful for those who make a legal and public commitment.
Colt sat Jade on her feet, and at once she was struck with reality, now that the delight of their mischievous escape had subsided. “Our families will never forgive us.”
Colt ran his fingertips down her arms, felt the swell of his desire beginning. “They had their moments of passion, or we wouldn’t be here, so they should understand.”
Suddenly there was an apologetic knock on the door.
“Champagne,” Colt said, turning to open the door and take two silver buckets and white-linen-wrapped bottles from a nervous-looking steward.
He dismissed the steward, closed the door. When he turned back, Jade was no longer there, but he didn’t have to wonder why. He went in search of his own luggage and dressing room. By the time he’d changed into a blue velvet robe and returned to the main parlor of the suite, he found her there, expertly opening a bottle of champagne, breathtakingly lovely in a filmy white negligee.
She did not realize she stood before a light and that her body was revealed beneath the gossamer wisps. He could see the firm outline of her naked buttocks, molded and shaped to perfection by her years of dedication to dance. Her legs, so lithe and lovely, were sculptured works of art. He gasped at the sight of her breasts, divine, enticing, cherry-bud nipples ever so slightly straining against the sheerness of her gown.
She turned, and her glorious hair, brushed free of her bridal coif, swung gently about her flushed, excited face. Tiny ruby dots of lust gleamed amidst the emerald and jade of her eyes. She gave him a glass of champagne and whispered, almost shyly, “A toast to us, my love.”
Colt clinked his glass ceremoniously against the rim of her own, their eyes locking and holding as they sipped, long and slow. Then he took her glass from her trembling fingers and, along with his, sent it smashing into the empty hearth of the marble fireplace nearby.
“I’ve waited for this moment to make you truly mine,” he said huskily, lifting her once again into his arms. She made no sound, merely burned her gaze into his as he carried her into the bedroom.
He laid her down on the bed, feasting on her body as she brazenly opened her gown to display her offering for their own private wedding-night feast.
Colt unfastened his robe, allowed it to fall to the floor without further ado. Then he moved to lie beside her.
Their mouths fused together as their tongues probed and shared. Volatile passions at once ignited and spread like molten fire through their veins, to consume and devour. His lips dropped to her breasts, and he nuzzled the warm and deliciously fragrant flesh, and she danced her fingers through his thick hair and pressed him yet closer to her bosom.
Love, desire…passion, ecstasy…devotion, promises…forever and always. Perfect harmony, sequence, waves of exquisite nuance and crescendo crested as waves of rhythm generated as though the two were not merely lovers in the act of passion but dancers, great dancers, performing for lovers of art, of creation, with a thousand spotlights fired from their very hearts to ignite and explode in brilliant lights of dazzling ecstasy.
They lay together, arms about each other, a fusion of lives and hearts, entwined…for what they hoped, and prayed, would be…forever.
Chapter Three
The royal yacht made its way from St. Petersburg in the milky-white night, and when Jade and Colt awoke around noon the next day, they were greeted by a breathtaking view of the rocky coast of Finland.
Jade had scrambled to her knees on the bed to peer out a porthole. Her mussed hair tumbled carelessly about her face, and she cared not that she was naked, her carefully selected negligee lost somewhere in the rumpled bedcover. Colt watched with loving amusement as she clapped her hands in childlike glee and declared, “This is a special morning—our first ‘married’ morning—and I want a special breakfast—more champagne, and smoked salmon and eggs, and sweet melon in wine!”
Colt dryly pointed out, “I think we missed morning. Maybe we should try for lunch.”
Jade gave him her best patrician pose, and with a haughty sniff, pretended indignation. “You seem to forget, sir, that I am royalty—a princess! Princess Jade! And if I want breakfast in the middle of the day, I shall have it—posthaste! And you…” she jabbed at his bare chest, “…would do well to remember your position as a commoner—or I’ll have to put you in your place.”
“How about letting me put you in yours?” He gave a mock growl and lunged for her. Both of them convulsing with laughter, he wrestled her back down on the bed, pinning her beneath him easily. Looking into her eyes, warm with desire, he huskily proclaimed, “Your place, little princess, is here in my arms, forever.”
He lowered his lips, claiming hers in a kiss so deep as to seemingly never end. He rolled to his side, taking her with him, and his hands began to move possessively over her body.
The spark was ignited, and they fell into the flame and were ultimately consumed.
They drifted into the gentle veil of lovers’ slumber, awakening later in the afternoon to the realization they were utterly famished. Colt ordered the breakfast he knew was no more a problem than if he’d ordered it at noon. The crew had one purpose: to serve the honeymooners and see that they lacked for nothing.
They spent most of the time in their suite, and when they were not thrilling to the endless glory of their lovemaking, they talked excitedly of the future. Colt was filled with enthusiasm for his new job with the Vanderbilts. Working with William Vanderbilt’s yachting and horse racing ventures, he felt, would be fascinating.
“But you don’t have to work,” Jade reminded him. “Between the two of us, we have all the money we’ll ever need.”
He playfully challenged, “Then I guess you don’t have to open your ballet school, either, do you? After all, why should you work? And you’re right. Why should I work? Let’s just spend the rest of our lives making love and spending our money.”
Jade knew they each wanted something more meaningful out of life: they were young, energetic, and eager for new experiences. Besides, Colt had insisted they maintain separate banking accounts since he still had a bitter taste in his mouth from that terrible time he had almost lost his own inheritance, and Dani’s as well. He wanted to make sure that should he somehow repeat history (God forbid it should happen), he would do so at no loss to Jade.
They talked of finding a place to stay in New York until they could build their dream house. Colt related how Cornelius Vanderbilt had mentioned the mansion he was building for his family along the beautiful Hudson River, north of the city. “Maybe we can find property there, too.”
Jade spoke of her own dream. “I want four daughters, and I want them all to study ballet. We’ll send them to Russia to study, and—”
“Hey,” he interrupted with a laugh, “what about our sons? I don’t want them to be ballet dancers. They’re going to be yachtsmen and horsemen, and—”
Jade silenced him with a kiss, and they succumbed once more to their passion, which, like their happiness and joy, seemed endless.
Their cruise took them from the Gulf of Finland into the Baltic Sea and along the western coast of Russia.
Moving on to Denmark, they anchored for a few days in Copenhagen, where they were guests of King Christian and Queen Louise. Jade was happy to meet up with a lady-in-waiting who had gone to Russia in service to Her Majesty when she attended their wedding. The lady confided that after Jade and Colt had run away from the reception, no one was really angry. Of course, she related with giggles, there were those who pretended to be shocked because they did not dare a
dmit they thought it terribly romantic. When Jade repeated this to Colt, he said he’d known all along everyone would think it was typical of Jade to do something so unorthodox.
Sailing once more, the royal yacht turned to the North Sea, then south through the English Channel. The day they passed between Calais and Dover, Jade and Colt stood at the ship’s railing and stared through the gray mist toward the coast of the United Kingdom.
Noticing she seemed wistful, Colt asked why, and she told him candidly, “Ireland is on the other side of England, and I’m wondering whether I ever want to return there.”
“One day perhaps we should visit.” He tightened his arm about her waist and pulled her closer. “After all, you’ve got family on your father’s side there.”
“You’re my family,” she said, swallowing against the familiar knot of sadness that arose whenever she thought of the loneliness of her childhood. Never had she confided those feelings to anyone, nor would she now, even to Colt. She didn’t want to think about any time except this, any place but here—and the husband she loved more and more each day.
One day they spotted an island off the coast of Portugal, and Colt had the captain anchor there. They took a small boat ashore to have a cherished afternoon on an isolated beach with white, white sand and cool green waters lapping at the shore.
They cruised through the Strait of Gibraltar, stopping in a small port of Morocco to sightsee before heading into the Mediterranean Sea.
They stopped at the island of Corfu, and Jade threatened never to leave. One of the seven Ionian Islands of Greece, Corfu was a haven of beauty with its luxuriant groves of olives, oranges, and lemons. They visited ancient temples to Hera, Apollo, and Aphrodite. They feasted on sliced artichoke, octopus, small pickled birds, and stuffed vine leaves.
Love and Dreams: The Coltrane Saga, Book 6 Page 3
